Playing with the devil
by Molinita
Summary: House is playing cards with the devil and stakes are high.
1. Chapter 1

**Playing with the Devil: Chapter one**

_A/N: I had this idea a while back. It's based on the song "The Spanish Train" (Chris de Burgh) where God and the devil play poker and chess for the souls of the dead. So this fic belongs to the song inspired stories I started with "The old apartment".  
__I just wrote this part tonight and the fic is not ready yet. I would just like what you think about this and if it's worth going on._

_Disclaimer: House and Wilson are not mine … the devil isn't mine, either. O.o_

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**G**regory House woke up shivering. Still half asleep he reached lazily for the blanket and pulled it up to his shoulders. It was freezing cold in his bedroom. He tucked the blanket tightly around his legs and pulled his arms close to his body, but the icy air still crept through the thin fabric. Letting out a low tired growl he opened his eyes and pulled at the blanket once more. _Why the heck was it so damn cold?_ House blinked into the darkness, more to clear his mind from his last dream than to see something. He suddenly realized that the room temperature had dropped drastically. It had been a very hot late August night in New Jersey and he had neglected his blanket when he had gone to bed. Now his breath came out in small clouds.  
House reached out to the small lamp on his bedside table. He tapped the switch a few times, but nothing happened, the lamp stayed dark. His tired growl turned into a much louder protest. _Something was wrong here. _But House didn't know what it was. 

**T**he damaged muscle in his right thigh seemed to burn from the pain and it took House a few minutes to massage his leg and slowly lift it out of his bed with the help of both of his hands. The pain always got worse in the cold and House had been happy with the high summer temperatures the last few days. Again he wondered why it turn so freezing cold within … within what? It had felt like seconds. The hair on his forearms stood up on end and he had goosebumps. House rubbed his arms to warm them.

**H**e was still waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, when he noticed that the familiar light from the street was missing. Leaning on his bedside table he got up and slowly shifted his weight a little more to the right side to see if his leg supported him. Again the pain struck him and he quickly put his weight back on his left leg. Cursing under his breath House limped over to the window and glanced out no the street. The lamps were all dark, the street dead. A dark cloud covered most of the moon that hang white and full in the sky.

House raised an eyebrow. The empty street reminded him of his dream. He just could not remember what it was that he had dreamed about. All that was left was a hollow and dead feeling.

**W**ith an erratic gesture he tried to wipe that dream and the gloomy mood away. It had just been a dream and the street looked dead, because the power went out. _No big deal_, he told himself.

House hobbled out of the bedroom. Before he reached the hall, he started another futile attempt to turn on the lights, but the room stayed dark. Earlier tonight he had left his cane in the livingroom, now he leaned against the wall with his right hand to relieve his leg. The pain seemed to be worse than before and House longed to take some pills. .

**A** strange light came from the livingroom and there was something else. House blinked, he rubbed his eyes, but it was still there: a light mist was hovering above the floor. He looked down to his bare feet, his toes dug into the carpet and a little cloud above them. A yellowish cloud.

Suspiciuosly he glanced through the door, the moon was now right above the window, casting a bright beam of moonlight across the room. In the shadows on the piano stool sat a figure, wrapped up in a dark cloak.

"Who are you?" House snarled. His hand was reaching out to his cane that leaned against the wall, ready to smack whoever the intruder was.

A low cackle came from the shadows. "The great Dr. Gregory House finally came out to play." The figure got up from the piano stool and House clutched his cane, ready to strike.

"I am known as The Devil." Another malicious cackle. "But _you_ can call me Lucifer."

"Great! I'm God. You can call me Lord. Glad we settled that," House growled. He was annoyed. Not only that this guy broke into his apartment, he also had the nerv to play stupid games with him.

"Sceptic and crotchety as always," the figure sounded amused, but the voice still sounded threatening to House and let the hair at his neck stand up.

"Get outta here." House pointed his cane to the door.

"I cannot go now. We haven't played yet." The figure stepped into the light and seemed to grow larger by the second. House cocked his head to one side and squinted. _Where there really two small horns on his opponents head?_

The hovering mist seemed to emerge from under the cloak of the figure. House sniffed, a light sulfurous smell hung in the air.

"Cool special effects," he admitted, putting his cane back down on the floor and leaning onto it. "Who sent you?"

"No one sent me. I heard about you … - down there." The devil pointed a long finger towards the floor.

"People talk behind my back in the basement?" House lifted an eyebrow in amusement. "Come on, who sent you? Cuddy? Wilson? Oh no, I got it! It was Foreman!"

"Shut up." Angrily the devil stepped towards House. He lifted one hand and turned off the moonlight with a swift movement of his hand. With another motion he produced a faint greenish light around himself.

"Wow!" House laughed. "That was amazing."

The devil turned around wordlessly and sat down at the table. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a set of cards. "Sit down."

Leaning heavily on his cane, House limped over to the table. _This could be a very enjoyable situation_, he thought, _if only his leg wouldn't hurt so bad_.

One glance at the orange Vicodin bottle on the table told him, that it was empty, so he hobbled on to get a new one from the kitchen.

"Sit down," the devil hissed at him.

"Need my pills first." House barely turned around and just headed straight on to the kitchen. An ice cold hand grabbed his arm and swirled him around.

"Sit down!" The dark figure spit again, two rows of rotten, yellow teeth bared.

House swallowed hard. The sulfurous breath made his head spin and he fought against the urge to throw up.

"God, try and brush your teeth before visiting someone in the middle of the night." He waved his hand before his face, trying to get rid of the foul smell. But the firm grip on his arm made him sit down anyway.

"We will play. If you win, you will get rid of your pain."

House wanted to throw in a witty comment about that stupid ante, but the devil hushed him. With another movement of his hand he brushed over House's leg. The pain was gone. Startled House grabbed his leg. The scar was still there, he could feel it through the thin fabric of his pants, but the pain was completely gone. He dug his fingers into his thigh, massaging it, but there was no pain at all.

"How did you do that?" House looked up and for the first time he noticed the devils face. He was young and rather handsome looking, but his eyes had a red shimmer and his face color was greenish, his lips dark green, stained with yellow saliva.

"Do you believe now that I am indeed The Devil?" His eyes were narrowed to slits.

House did not answer. He looked down at the table. The cards had been dealt without him noticing it. This guy sure was quick with his hands.

"What's at stake?" House asked as he picked up his cards.

"Your pain."

"What if I lose?"

"You got something I want. Something I cannot get my hands on as long as it belongs to you."

House looked at him questioningly. "I got nothing. What do you want?"

"The soul of James Wilson."

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Please review! Thanks :) 


	2. Chapter 2

**Playing With The Devil: Chapter Two**

_A/N: Sorry it took me a while to update. I haven't been home for a few days and I had to think about some points of this story that'll be important for the plot later on. I hope you'll keep on reading :)_

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**H**ouse let his hand with the cards sink back on the table. He looked confused. Nothing of Wilson belonged to him. And he had no idea what that man was talking about.

The air in his livingroom was still freezing and he shivered. Something weird was going on, but House still believed that somebody played a trick on him. And if this guy was not the devil, but just a damn good actor, then he had nothing to lose. And of course the devil wasn't real, neither was anything like Wilson's soul. But obviously he knew how to stop the pain in House's muscle.  
Nothing to lose and all to win – it seemed to be the perfect deal for House.

The two cards on the table before him looked tempting. House was never one who could resist a poker game. He lifted the corners of the cards and peered at the small sign. Two aces, not bad for a start.

"You take the deal?" The devil watched him closely, his red eyes beaming.

House took another deep breath and picked up the cards. He was in.

A mean chuckle came from the cloaked figure, accompanied by another wave of foul smelling breath. "Then let's see what we are playing for." He reached out a hand and pointed to the tv set. The screen flickered, House bent forward and saw a picture of Wilson.

"You spy on him with a camera?" House could hardly believe he could see directly into the hotel room Wilson was staying at.

"A camera?" The little chuckle sounded hollow and mean. "I've got my own ways." The devil looked at the screen almost longingly. "Such a devoted soul," he whispered. "He shouldn't have given it to you. You don't appreciate it … - I will."

The picture of Wilson on his hotel bed made House feel queasy. He was asleep, looking peaceful and content, almost like a child.

"He'll be mine. Now let's see what you'll get."

A cold hand reached out for his leg and as the pain suddenly shot back into it, House screamed in agony. He dropped the cards and gasped for air. The pain had not been this bad in years and instinctively he reached for the Vicodin bottle. It was still empty. House let out a loud growl like a wounded animal.

"Stop it!" House panted. He threw the pill bottle across the table and clutched his leg again.

"The more games you'll win, the more the pain will cease. For now" The devil picked up his cards, waiting for House to do the same.

_Win?_ House couldn't even think. The pain crept into his head, that now felt like it was very close to exploding. He squeezed his eyes shut as another wave of pain shot through his thigh. He glanced up to the shelf where he had hidden his morphin. If only he could get there.

"Take your cards _now_!" The greenish face was only a few inches away from House's.

House grit his teeth, took one hand off from his leg and picked up the cards. Wilson was forgotten, all he wanted now was to win and get rid of the pain again.

"**S**o let's just pretend we had started with the blind bets." The devil dropped a few golden coins onto the table. He pushed some of them over to House, left some in the middle and kept the rest for himself.

Nodding slightly House looked at his coins, picking one up and examining it closely. It was heavy and the golden surface looked dull. On both sides it had a "W" engraved, obviously standing for Wilson's soul.

_So what was this thing that Wilson supposedly had given to him? _The thing others might call 'a soul', House had thought to be personality, but that was certainly not something you can take or give away._ Was there really something like a soul?_

The devil dealed the flop, placing the cards on the table. House's heart made a jump, another ace. He quickly placed it into his hand.

"I raise." House thrust another coin into the pot.

"Fold." The devil put down his cards. House felt a slight relief in his leg, then remembered his ante and took a look at the tv. Wilson was still sound asleep.

Before he could protest, the devil had dealt the next round. He threw the small blind in and waited for House to add the big blind.

"Wouldn't it be my turn to deal the cards?" House complained, but knew right away that the devil wasn't necessarily bound to rules. He shrugged his shoulders, dropped a coin onto the table and picked up his cards. _A king and a five.  
_The next cards did not provide any help at all. House was hoping for something better in the next round. Without even looking at his cards, the devil raised and flinged another coin into the pot.  
House had to bluff to keep up with the bets. The stabbing pain in his leg was still distracting him from the game, but he tried to concentrate. _The more he'll win, the more the pain would subside._

When it was time to show, House's king was beaten by the devils two pairs. Both turned to the tv, looking at Wilson. He was still asleep, but was rolling over uneasily. _Maybe he just had a bad dream.  
_House was not sure if the pain in his leg got worse. It was already so bad that he hardly felt any difference. When he looked back at the table, his cards were already laying in front of him. He rubbed his ice cold hands to warm them and picked the cards up.

**T**hey both played without talking, but they eyed eachother closely, House trying to see behind the various bluffs and tricks of the hooded man and the devil seemed to enjoy House's pain and fruitless efforts to win.

House wanted to see, he had a full house and felt very confident that his opponent had more or less nothing on hand. He was wrong. The devils four queens beat him.

The tv flickered and House turned to watch Wilson. Rolling over in his hotel bed, he slowly woke up. Wilson pressed his hands against his temples, then his eyes, obviously not feeling well. He glanced around slightly disorientated and shivered. His breath draw small clouds in the cold air of his room.

"We're getting there," the devil grinned.

House digressed from Wilson's picture and glared at the cards that already lay before him. He rubbed his leg once more and took them. _Two nines._

**T**he poker game did not go well for House. No matter how well he bluffed or what his cards were, the devil beat him – round after round.

Every time they had shown their cards, both turned around to see what Wilson was doing. From the shivers and the confused looks, House guessed that Wilson had noticed the drop of temperature and the extincted street lights, too. His room looked gloomy and Wilson started to clutch his chest and his head in turns as if in pain.

_But then_, House thought, _Wilson couldn't be in half as much pain as he was_. His head dropped on the table while he fought hard not to pass out. The fierce pain in his leg made him feel nauseous.  
The temperature had dropped a few degrees again. House was shaking from the cold and the pain. _This has to go away_, he mumbled. He _had_ to win!

**A**gain he picked up the cards, but the pain drove tears into his eyes and he had trouble recognizing them. Eights and threes, sixes and nines – it all looked the same to him. He grit his teeth and picked up another card. Diamonds!  
They were all diamonds, House noticed and threw another coin into the pot, another piece of Wilson's soul.  
If he had a choice now, he would trade Wilson's whole soul for just another five minutes without the stabbing pain.  
_What was a soul good for anyway?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Playing With The Devil: Chapter Three**

**H**ouse's flush beat the devil's straight and House dared to take a short, deep breath. The pain eased a little.

"Don't get used to it," the devil hissed at him.

**W**ilson relaxed a bit and, just like House, he took a deep breath. He then disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared with a wet cloth pressed against his forehead. One hand still lay on his chest to ease the pain. He sat down on his bed and closed his eyes, small streaks of water running down his cheeks.

"Maybe your luck changes now," House said hopefully, but not completely convinced himself.

"Hope is a quality you'll only find in humans," the devil said with disdaining looks. "Hoping for something to change for the better is illogical and irrational, it's a useless straw you cling to when things are heading for desaster. My position is so much more comfortable," he grinned. "I _know_, I'm gonna win."

House did not listen. Encouraged by his first win after several losses, he picked up the newly dealt cards. But his own luck was already changing again. A three and a seven, one of clubs, one of hearts. He kept his face straight and looked at his opponent valiantly. There was no way he would give away what crap he got.

The devil tossed another coin into the middle of the table and raised his bet.  
_He's bluffing_, House was sure. With a slight upturn of the corner of his mouth, House added another coin. The 'W' shimmered in the dim green light. He looked up into the devil's eyes, the red in the eyes was a little dimmer than before, the greenish color of his face a little pale.

_Fold! _House thought as if he could make him put down his cards by sheer will. _Fold!_

"Let me see," yellow and brown teeth bared in a broad grin, the devil slowly put his cards down. Three queens.

Stubbornly trying to ignore the pain in his leg, House closed his eyes and laid his rather worthless hand on the table. A pair of sevens.

"Walking sticks. Oh sweet irony!" The devils high pitched laugh let House's blood freeze. Another shot of pain made him jerk forward. One hand grabbed his leg, the other one clasped the edge of the table. Breathing was harder than ever before. The pain seemed to take away all oxygen. House tried to suck in some air, but choked on the green fog that filled the room. He wanted to stay rational, but he knew by now, that there was no doubt anymore that his opponent actually _was_ Lucifer, ruler of hell and leader of fallen angels.

"**L**ook at that," the devil had leaned back in his chair and looked at Wilson's picture on the tv, highly satisfied and smiling.

House managed to look up and squinted at the screen. Wilson had given up fighting the pain in his chest and head. He now stared at the rugged carpet with a rather surprised look on his face.

"What's… wrong … with him?" House panted and shut his eyes again. Wilson's look frightened him. He wanted to shut out the picture of Wilson and his own pain.

"James Wilson just lost that part of his soul that still belonged to him alone."

Just the thought of having Wilson's soul to himself let a drop of yellow saliva drip from the corner of the devil's mouth. A soul you could torment, use and abandon and it would still be a loyal follower. These were his favorites and they were so hard to get.

He tilted his head and glanced at Wilson again. "Amazing!" he mused. He's willing to give up his very own part of his soul, but clings to the part he has given to you. The fool trusts you to hold onto it." His expression quickly changed from longing to grim. He darted House a gloomy look and almost threw the cards over the table. "Pick them up. Just one more round and he'll be mine!"

**H**ouse took the cards and looked at them with clenched teeth. _The fool trusts you …_ The words kept ringing in House's head. Suddenly he was not sure anymore if the nausea came from the pain in his thigh or from the pain of knowing that Wilson had trusted him.

"You're not gonna get him," he gritted.

His cards looked promising so far. _Pretty pictures_, House thought and again there was a glimpse of hope. The hope to get rid of the pain and the hope to give Wilson back his soul.

The blind bets already lay on the table and House added one more coin. _Raise. _He took another card and was very close to a straight flush or even a royal flush. All he needed was the nine of hearts or the ace of hearts. Nervously House stared at the devils cards, feeling his own hands getting wet from cold sweat.  
Another card. If this was not one of the cards he needed, he would be left with a king high, which was basically nothing.  
It was the nine of hearts! He had his straight flush, the highest possible. Only a royal flush would be able to beat his hand. House tried hard to suppress a smile of relief. This round he would win. He tossed another coin into the pot, raising the bet once more.

"You really think your measly straight flush will win?" The devil grinned.

House looked up. How could he possibly know what he had on his hand? He kept his face straight. "You're not gonna trick me."

"No need to trick you. I can _see_ your straight flush," the devil pointed to the back of House's cards.

House frowned as it began to dawn on him. "You can see through the cards?"

"Told you, that I _knew_ I would win." The devil laughed out loud.

"You could see through the cards all the time?" House could hardly believe it. "The game is revoked. You cheated!"

"Everybody lies. Isn't that even one of your lines?" The devil's laughter turned into a chuckle and ended with a snort.

Angrily House threw his cards on the table. It was just a bluff. Never had that guy a royal flush. Never! "Then beat my straight flush!" he yelled.

In the greenish face the red eyes glowed like coals. Slowly the devil put his cards on the table, one after the other.  
An ace, a king, a queen, a jack and a ten of clubs. Royal Flush.  
Again the devil laughed out loud, triumphantly and mocking. House wanted to cover his ears, but he could not move. A blinding light shot through the room and the cards on the table burst into green flames before everything went dark.

**T**he streets lamps flickered and went back on, casting a damp light through the window. The yellowish mist slowly dissolved and House was left alone in his apartment. The game was lost.  
A sharp pain shot through his right leg, burning nerv endings reaching out, finding nothing, leaving the muscle stump aching badly. House cringed and fell to the floor, yelping in pain. He clutched his thigh with his hand as if to grab the pain and tear it out. He blacked out for a few seconds, then lifted his head again.  
Vicodin was his first thought, but before he could make any attempt to get his pills from the kitchen, something else struck him: he had lost Wilson's soul to the devil.

House turned around to the faint light of his tv. The picture of Wilson was fading, but still visible. His body now slumped on the bed, his arms dangling at his side. There was an empty expression on his face. Wilson's eyes were dead.

Only half aware of the stabbin pain in his thigh, House stared at him. The tv flickered and then went black.  
Wilson was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Playing with the devil: Chapter Four**

_A/N: Thanks everyone for your reviews! I am glad you like this story so far. :)_

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**P**anicking House stared at the screen. He tried to get up, but his right leg slipped and he fell back on the floor. Crawling a few feet he reached the tv set. There was nothing unusual about it anymore and there was nothing to indicate that just a minute before there had been a picture of Wilson. He switched on the tv and the flashy lights of the night program burned in his eyes. House checked a few channels, but none showed Wilson and no news mentioned anything unusual like the devil visiting New Jersey. 

_Maybe,_ House thought, _this was all just a bad dream_. He would wake up in the morning, maybe still a little tired, but besides that everything else would be fine. Then his eyes dropped to a small golden coin that he still clutched in his fingers. He had held it in such a firm grip that the "W" was imprinted in the palm of his hand.  
He sat on the floor staring at the coin and his hand for a while, but soon the pain in his leg got too bad and he grabbed the sofa to pushed himself up on his feet.  
_First things first._ He needed his Vicodin.

**H**ouse reeled into the kitchen. He blinked to clear his vision, but still parts of his visual field were blurry. He bumped into the wall and then hobbled on, ignoring the swirling room around him. His brain was used to skim through all kinds of differential diagnoses and although the dizzyness and the pain affected his thinking, it didn't take him very long to come up with the diagnosis of sulfur poisoning. That would explain the neurological symptoms, the impaired vision and the nausea.  
He made it to the sink right in time before he threw up.

The annoyed rolling of his eyes made him gag again and House cursed loudly. Now he did not only have his pain back – worse than ever -, but also had to deal with the poisoning. He reached out for his Vicodin bottle on the counter and tipped two pills directly into his mouth. There was only one pill left in the bottle now. _I'll need a new prescription from Wilson_, House thought and suddenly remembered that, the last time he saw him, his friend did not look like he could ever prescribe anything again.

**H**e sighed. All his body wanted, was to get back to bed and sleep, but he knew he had to check on Wilson first. Holding himself upright with one hand on the counter, he took the phone and pressed the redialing button.

"Come on, get the phone!" House mumbled, but Wilson did not answer. House hang up and dialed Wilson's number again. _Soul or not, _House thought,_ he should still be able to pick up the phone_.  
After letting the phone ring for another five minutes, House had to admit that he had to find another way to find out if Wilson was okay. Swearing loudly he hobbled out of the kitchen, got dressed and left his apartment.

**T**he hot night air swept over him and almost took his breath away when he stepped out of the door. In his apartment it had still been freezing cold and now he stood in the warm summer night wearing his leather jacket. House looked at his bike that was parked in front of the door, but he was not in the shape for driving. He fumbled for his mobile and called a taxi.

**T**he driver stopped his taxi right beside House and eyed his passenger closely as he got in. House told him the name of the hotel Wilson was staying at and turned away, ignoring the curious looks of the driver. The pills took effect and the pain in his leg was bearable again. House now was aware of his touseled hair, unshaved face and the faint smell of vomit and sulfur that still surrounded him.

"Cool party?" the driver asked, throwing a furtive glance at his passenger.

House nodded silently. He was still feeling sick and the reckless driving did not help to make it any better.

"Must've been a very _cool_ party, if you had to wear a leather jacket!" The driver laughed about his own poor joke. House didn't.

**W**hen they reached the hotel, House noted that the street lights were a little dimmer than usual. He handed the driver a few dollar notes and got out of the car wordlessly. A street light near House went dark, flickered and went on again. He jumped and nervously looked around. _Was this a sign that the devil was still around?  
_House didn't have the time to stay out in the street, he had to get upstairs to Wilson. _The fool trusts you … _The devil's words still haunted him.

The neonlights at the hotel entrance were buzzing and lazily blinking, announcing vacancies. He opened the door to the deserted hall, ignored the night clerk and limped straight to the elevator.

"Out of order," the man behind the reception desk said and turned his attention back to the magazin he was reading.

House wasn't in the mood for an argument and hobbled over to the staircase. _This would be painful_. But he climbed the stairs as fast as he could, pulling himself up at the handrail. The hotel had more than ten floors and House was glad that Wilson had decided to take a room on the third and had declined to move up to the top floor to a room with a better view.

**B**reathing hard he finally managed the last few steps. He almost ran along the corridor, taking small jumps to take the weight off his right leg. The doors all looked the same, all were painted in the same dull colors and it reminded House more of a prison than of a hotel. He knocked on Wilson's door without expecting an answer. Nothing moved inside. He knocked again, than pulled out a paper clip and opened the lock.

The door slowly swung open and House reluctantly stepped into the room, half expecting the devil sitting on Wilson's bed, sucking the last bit of life out of him with a wicked grin. But to House's surprise the room looked just like an ordinary hotel room. No devil, no yellowish mist, no sulfur, even the temperature had almost returned to normal. What made House shiver was the sight of Wilson.

On the queen-sized bed Wilson looked small. His face was ashen and had lost every trace of human kindness. Every trace of _Wilson's_ kindness. The usually warm brown eyes looked dull and lifeless. There was nothing left of the energetic, gentle and caring person Wilson used to be. This man on the bed in a lonely hotel room seemed to be a stranger, a man House had never seen before.

House wasn't frightened easily, but he was frightened now. He fought the urge to leave the room and go back home to forget all about this night. But he couldn't go. _This was still Wilson – somehow.  
_He took a step towards him, waiting for a reaction.

"Wilson?" he said softly. The name hung in the air and wouldn't go away, but the man on the bed did not answer.  
"Are you okay?" House asked, tilting his head and looking at Wilson's face. There still was no movement, not even the twitch of a muscle.

A horrible thought struck him. _What if Wilson was dead? _He quickly hobbled over to him and took Wilson's wrist. The hand was ice cold and House let it drop right away without checking for a pulse.

"Wilson!" he said alarmed, shaking him slightly. Wilson's body was cold as well, he could feel it through the thin shirt. House's eyes widened in horror, he felt his heart clench. _The fool trusts you …_

"Wilson!" he shouted right into his ear. Then he saw how his chest heaved slightly, then fell again, almost imperceptable. Wilson was breathing.

"Oh, don't you _ever_ do that again!" House scolded his friend and let out a relieved sigh. Now assured that Wilson was not dead, he felt for his pulse again. The cold hand gave him goosebumps, but this time he did not let go. Pulse was there, a little weak and slow, but steady.  
Torn between the experience in medical emergencies and the shock of seeing his closest friend in this state, House stood helpless next to Wilson, unable to decide what to do.

**W**ilson shivered slightly.

"You're cold, buddy?" House pulled the blanket on the bed closer and wrapped it tightly around Wilson. For a moment he had his arm around Wilson's shoulders, pulling him a little closer to his side to warm him. Somehow he hoped that everything would just be okay, if he could only warm him up a little. House knew it wouldn't work that way. He had learned enough that night to know that the devil does not give back a soul just because of the raise of the body temperature.  
Wilson lay stiff and uncomfortable in his arm and House gave up on warming him with his own body. The blanket had to do for now.

_The fool trusts you … _the words rang in his head again. Wilson had trusted him and lost his soul for that.  
House had always felt that he was a disappointment to people close to him. He was crippled, he had disappointed his father and now he had let down Wilson. House felt guilty and the urge to run away was stronger than ever. But he took a deep breath and got up from the bed.

"Keep on trusting me," he told Wilson. "I'll get it back." House nodded reassuringly, but he had no idea what to do. His eyes went through the room, looking for something to toss. He needed to think, think fast. There was nothing around, the room was empty. Wilson had no personal things laying around.  
House remembered the coin he had stuffed into his pocket before leaving his apartment. He pulled it out and started tossing it in the air. Slowly his mind started working again.

**H**e had been tricked to lose Wilson's soul and the only way he could think of to get it back was another game. Poker was out of the question. That game had proven itself to be to easy to cheat at. House tried to think of other games he was good at and for a second he thought to challenge the devil to a jump-and-run game on his Nintendo. But with the messing with the tv the devil had already shown that he could control certain electronic features.

"Chess," House whispered into the quiet room. This seemed to be the perfect game. All pieces were openly out on the board and if he kept a close eye on the devil, there was no way he could cheat.

"Wilson," he turned around to the poor figure on the bed. "Where is your chessboard?" House asked excitedly. Without waiting for an answer, House started to open the drawers, rummaging through Wilson's clothes and belongings. Under a bunch of oncology books he finally found the board and a small box with the chess pieces.

"We'll get your soul back now," House smiled and set up the game on the small table. He quickly placed the pieces on the board. It was almost three in the morning and he doubted that the devil would come out and play in the daylight. They had to finish the game while it was still dark.

**E**verything was set and House sat expectantly at the table. There was no opponent.  
House nervously played with the coin and waited. _Would the devil show up? Would he be knowing that House was waiting?_  
Nothing happened.

"How am I supposed to get him here?" House asked angrily. He looked helplessly over to Wilson. "It's not like I can call him or do they have something like Satan hellphone & teleport?"  
Wilson stayed quiet and motionless.

House started tossing the coin again. "Head – the devil will stay away, W – he will come out to play," he mumbled, while he flinged the coin up in the air again. Then it struck him: there was no head. This coin had the "W" on both sides. And it still stood for Wilson's soul.

**H**e held his breath and removed his king from the board, then he carefully placed the coin in his place.

A blinding flash of light almost immediately filled the room. House quickly closed his eyes. He felt the temperature drop and the sulfurous smell made him cough.

"You dare to call me?" the devil hissed at House and a spray of stinking saliva rained on House's face. "You dare to steal one of my coins and call me back to earth?" He let out a low growl. "You better have a very good reason for that."

House opened his eyes again and looked right into the burning red eyes of the devil. "You want that coin back?" he asked, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. "Then you have to win." The devil stared at him and he stared right back. "If you lose, you'll give back Wilson's soul."


	5. Chapter 5

**Playing with the devil: Chapter Five**

_**A/N: **As you may have noticed, there was a small mistake (actually it was a very big one_ o.0_) in chapter four. Of course the coin replaces the KING, not the queen. I corrected that in the last chapter. Just wanted to let you know so you won't be confused._

_This is the last chapter of the story. Thanks, merci and Danke to everyone for reading and for your kind reviews! They mean a lot to me!_

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**T**he devil started pacing up and down the room, swooping his long, dark cloak behind him. He was literally fuming, yellow puffs of sulfurous breath came from his nostrils. 

Never before… _never_ had a human had the guts to challenge him this way and he felt very reluctant to take the challenge. But then there was his coin. With that the human had the power to call him back to earth whenever he wanted and that was an even bigger annoyance and humiliation.

**H**ouse felt sick and his vision started to blur again. The angrier the devil got, the more sulfur he breathed out. The air in the room was already filled with yellow mist.

"Go ahead!" The devil suddenly was at the table so quick, that it seemed he had disappeared in the corner and re-appeared at the chessboard out of thin air.

House stared down at his white chess pieces. He now wished he had chosen black and would be able to just answer his opponent's moves. Playing chess with the devil was so unreal, that he had now idea which strategy to follow. House lifted his hand and moved a pawn forward. The devil immediately moved one of his own pawns in response.  
Still undecided about a strategy, House moved another pawn. Again, the devil made his move within a second.

Unsure if the devil had a plan or just moved the pieces as fast as he could to unsettle him, House thought about his tactic a little more. If he sacrificed two of his pieces he could get into a pretty good position for a bishop fork. For a while he planned ahead, then made his next move.

**T**wo of the pawns met in the middle and House took the devil's pawn. One piece down, one move closer to his goal. He looked over to Wilson, who was still slumbed on his bed, shivering from the cold in the room.

The moment House had taken the devil's pawn from the board, Wilson lifted his head.

"Hey," House said softly, but Wilson looked right through him.

"He's mine," grinned the devil with a very mean streak in his voice. Wilson turned to face him and smiled faintly although his eyes were still blank. House was still far away from winning this game.

**A** chess game had to be won with wits and intelligence and House was sure there was no way to cheat. Strategy had always been a strength of his and he thought that he had a good chance to win Wilson's soul back. The hope that the devil was used to cheating and that he would not be able to beat his chess skills gave House a feeling of power.

"Smiling, are you?" the devil snarled. "You really think you can beat me? Oh, it's this _hope_ again. Stupid human thing this is."

House ignored him and continued smiling. He had a plan. He moved his bishop forward and threatened the devil's rook that was guarding the king. He had him cornered and was very close to chessmate already.

"No," hissed the devil and House's bishop burst into green flames.

For a few seconds House was blinded by the bright light. When he looked back on the board, the bishop was gone, the square where it had been was just a black hole.

House stared at it in disbelieve, but didn't say a word. He had not expected this way of cheating, but now that he saw the still smouldering square, he was not surprised at all. His courage and hope on the other hand had vanished with the bishop. _How was he supposed to win, when the devil destroyed every piece, that threatened one of his?_

**W**ith a dull feeling of hopelessness, House watched the devils next move. The destroyed bishop had protected his knight and now the devil used the freed path to take the white knight.

A low mourn filled the silence and House wasn't sure if it was his own silent protest or if it had been Wilson, feeling his tormented and torn soul.

"Wilson?" House whispered, looking over to the limp figure on the bed. The yellow mist filled the air now and Wilson's face was white and pale. He was breathing low and his now half-closed eyes were still empty. He did not answer.

The devil stayed still, quite enjoying the desperate looks House threw at Wilson and the damaged chess board. There was no way that impertinent human would win. He had never let a soul slip away from hell before. And it would certainly stay that way. There was no way he would give up his posessions, neither coin nor soul.

**H**ouse tried to think, - think of a way to keep the devil from destroying his pieces. Was there a way to make them fire-proof or to stop the devil's powers?

Absent minded, House moved a pawn to the destroyed square. The moment his fingers let go of it, the pawn fell through the board and the table. Puzzled House glanced under the table, but it was gone.

"What kind of game is this supposed to be?" he growled angrily.

"_My_ kind of game," laughed the devil and another wave of putrid breath washed over House.

So it wasn't only the attacking pieces bursting in flames, he couldn't use the damaged squares, either. Of course these rules did not apply to House's cloaked opponent. With a little cackle the devil pushed one of his pieces onto the smouldering square and it hovered above the board, standing in a perfect position to attack House's king, the coin.

Wilson's head sank to his chest.

House did not look at him anymore. The sight of Wilson, sinking deeper and deeper into a soulless darkness distracted him too much.

**I**f the devil destroyed all pieces that threatened his, there was only one way to beat him: the devil must not see, that his king was attacked. Of course this was a strategy that would work only once and House had to think which pieces he could sacrifice.

"Make your move." The low snarl of the devil made House look up. He had been deep in thought about his next move. Obviously the thinking had been taken too long for the impatient devil.

House took a deep breath and regretted it the moment he did so. The sulfur-laden mist streamed into his lungs, blocking the oxygen. He coughed and gasped for air, but only inhaled more yellow mist. Still choking on the sulfurous air and with watery eyes he reached out for his rook and pushed it forward. The first move to his trap was done.

**T**he devil was indeed not a very good chess player, House noticed. He did not seem to plan ahead, there was no recognizable tactic. On the other hand there was no skill needed as long as the devil could still blast away every piece that he found threatening.

House was now able to make his moves a little faster. He had it all thought through and just had to follow his plan. After a few moves, he dared to look over to Wilson again and was surprised to see that he had lifted his head. His face was turned towards the chess board, although his eyes were still blank. Could it be that he reacted to the progress of House's strategy?

The devil followed House's glance and his eyes widened as he saw Wilson sitting a little more upright again.

"Where?" he hissed and searched the chess board. He must have had overlooked something. His low growl rolled like a earthquake in his chest, deep and dangerous. House did not dare to look him in the eyes.

Non of House's pieces was attacking right now and the devil finally decided to take one of the white pawns and swooped it of the board.

That pawn had been a planned sacrifice and House tried hard not to show his satisfaction. He was too afraid to give his strategy away. Next to him on the bed Wilson stirred and for the first time he seemed to be uncomfortable from the sulfurous mist.

**H**ouse felt sick and he hoped he wouldn't have to leave for the bathroom. He had no idea what the devil would do if he was left alone with the board. House's vision was so blurred now, that the pieces were swimming before his eyes. He grabbed one of the white pieces that stood next to his knight, hoping he'll get the right one. He felt and quickly put the piece down again, it was a pawn. House fumbled for the other piece, hoping to get hold of his bishop now. He knew were every single chess piece had to be in the end, but it wasn't easy getting them there. House felt the round head of the bishop and moved it forward. Holding his breath his glanced at the devil. _Would he see the upcoming trap?_

Wilson gave a little cough and swallowed hard. The sulfur took effect. The devil whirled around to stare at Wilson, then turned back to the chess board. He checked if all his pieces were safe right now and finally decided to destroy House's bishop. Again the green flames danced and hissed on the chess board and another smouldering square was unusable for House, his bishop was gone.

House closed his eyes for a second to fight the nausea and desperation. His trap had been destroyed. He held his face in his hands for a while. There was no chance to change his tactic now, he had to go on.

Wilson took a deep breath. Now again undisturbed by the sulfur. _A big step back_, House thought and watched the devil make his next move. A pawn moved forward? Or was it the rook? House couldn't identify the pieces anymore. He wished for fresh air for his eyes and his lungs, but the mist was everywhere, streaming through his skin into his body, intoxicating every organ, suffocating him. His head was spinning fast now and he held his face with both hands, a futile attempt to stop it.

**H**ouse counted on the poor chess skills of his opponent. He sacrificed one piece after the other, trying to keep the devil's attention away from the white queen. Again and again the white pieces burst into flames, leaving burned squares behind.

Wilson had started to cough again and was now holding his aching head, swaying slowly on his bed.

The devil watched him angrily, monitoring the chess board even closer.

As happy as House was to see a little life returning to Wilson, he was also worried that the constant improvement showed the devil exactly what House was up to.

_Don't give it away!_ House thought, staring insistently at Wilson. _Don't!_

For a split second he thought he saw a glimpse of understanding in Wilson's eyes. But when he looked closer, they were blank again. And if there were any feelings at all, House could only detect a faint sadness in Wilson's face.

_Maybe he'll be happy again, thankful that I won back his soul_, thought House. _Or maybe he would just be incredibly angry at me for losing it in the first place. _House winced at the thought, but then again felt hope to hear Wilson lecturing him, scolding him as he always did when House had done something stupid.

**T**he green flames had almost distinguished the white pieces on the board and House tried hard to keep the devil's attention on his last two pieces on his opponent's side, while he opened the the way for his queen that was supposed to do the last move, to take the black king.

With only three white pieces left on the board, House had to keep an even closer eye on the black pieces that constantly drew nearer to the coin. Everything was lost if the devil got into a position that could attack the last bit of Wilson's soul. House did not have any defenses left. It was all or nothing.

House moved his knight forward, then to the left, leaving the door open for his queen, but at the same time threatening the devils queen. Would the devil know he had to give up his queen to save his king?

_Check_, House did not dare to say it out loud. This warning was given by fair players, but nothing in this game had been fair.

House and the devil both turned towards Wilson, but he did not move. He breathed in the poisonous air low and steady, his arms were hanging limply at his side again.

The devil grinned, House's last move obviously did not threaten any of his pieces.

House turned back to the chess board again. Wilson did not get any better, he even looked a little worse than before. _Had he made a mistake?_ He scanned the board, looked at every piece, black and white, and considered every possible move. But there it was: the knight that attacked the black queen and the white queen that attacked the black king.

**E**verything would be over with the devil's next move. Would he be clinging to his own queen and safe her by taking the knight? Or would he see, that the knight only disguised the attack of the white queen?

House kept his face straight and stared at the board unseeingly, the room swirling around him and his stomach revolting against the sulfur. There was nothing he could do, but hope that the devil would make the wrong decision.

Hope might be a 'stupid human thing', but it was all there was left to save Wilson's soul.

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End file.
